Walking through Skid Row
on my way to the Greyhound station
January 3rd, 2020
in apocalyptic L.A.
which is too excited in the head
and too tired at its feet
a homeless woman--
who looked like a frontier settler
or an Arctic explorer--
was moving her tent
(a group of officers stood by)
and she wished me a Happy New Year
not bitterly
not with irony
but with genuine goodwill
and I thought of Richard Brautigan
how he would have made a poem out of it
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